


Meet Me on the Battlefield

by Araceil



Series: Hated You From Hello [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ableism, Action/Adventure, Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Bitches Love Cannons, Depression, Disability, Drama, Gore, Homesickness, Hormone Train, Horror, Humour, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, OotP AU, Open Relationship, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Post Fifth Year, Romance, Spoilers, Teen!Cor, Touch Aversion, Unreliable Narrator, Worldbuilding, chapter specific warnings in notes, dumb teenagers in love, no betas we die like men, pre-game, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araceil/pseuds/Araceil
Summary: Six months and still no one has come for Harry yet. But that's fine. Breaking through across worlds probably takes time, he can be patient. There's plenty here in Eos for him to be dealing with in the meantime. He has to find a means to put a roof over Kimya's head, handle the remaining doors, juggle a war, a boyfriend, the Royal family, the Astrals, and the enemy.“Wesk,” the teenager growled unhappily and Harry glanced to the Retainer as he cheerfully waved a small white square and vanished the camera away with the other.He squinted at the sly smirk lingering in the corner of the man's dark mouth, “How many pictures of us have you taken?” he asked suspiciously, he'd seen a few from the beach, but he definitely wasn't dumb enough not to believe he had taken more. After all, the Retinue seemed to think their relationship coming together had been a great form of entertainment since day one.The barely concealed shit-eating grin did not reassure him. “Oh... a few,” he dismissed with an airy gesture as he examined his photograph, his expression softening slightly before he held it out, “This is one of the better ones though, I would wager.”
Relationships: Cor Leonis/Harry Potter, Dave Auburnbrie & Harry Potter, Kimya Auburnbrie & Harry Potter, Regis Lucis Caelum & Harry Potter
Series: Hated You From Hello [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1486352
Comments: 180
Kudos: 1060
Collections: Unfinished FFXV to watch





	1. Chapter 1

Ugh, it was too hot.

Harry tugged at his shirt collar, desperate to get some air as he sprawled out beneath the brightly coloured parasol of Ravatogh's Verinas Mart, sweating like a pig in the combined oppressive heat of Cleigne (even if it was hitting winter), and the blood _volcano_ a four hour hike away. He'd run out of sunscreen, and if he didn't burn like Aunt Petunia's Sunday Roast he would have been tempted to take his shirt off just to get a little more air – but as it stood, he'd already earned himself a sunburn in Duscae while chasing another Elder Coeurl who hadn't been particularly keen on actually fighting either him or Dave. He'd ended up sweating his sunscreen off and right now he had no intention of making said sunburn bigger or nastier.

He was _British_ , they weren't _made_ for heat! They were made for miserable grey wet and windy weather. Occasionally snow, definitely sleet and hail. Maybe a bit of light flooding. And frost. They didn't get a lot of snow but it definitely got cold enough for the ground to freeze and glitter with frost for a good quarter of the year.

So this?

This was cruel and unusual punishment and he would like to lodge a complaint with the management team of his life please. He had a _list_ of grievances longer than the ring-road circling Duscae and _someone_ had better answer for them!

And only one of them was how long it was bloody taking the Retinue to get their overly starched asses here. He put word out over the tipster network three days ago for them when he found one of their tombs and some pretty suspicious signs of what looked like _digging_ in the heart of Ravatogh. He'd also seen a weird building to the north-east that made all the hair on the back of his neck stand on end when he focused on it, so he wanted to check it out but wasn't willing to do it alone. There may have been an open Door or something worse lurking there, and Kimya was in no state to provide magical backup for him, even now three weeks after awakening.

He had originally come to Ravatogh to replenish his ingredients for more Wyvern's Fire Rounds, but he had already gone through everything he had harvested and made himself a good thirty of the tank-busting rounds by cheating a little and combining the explosive fluids from the wyvern Flame Sacks with the Killer Wasp venom. It made the explosive fluids even more volatile when exposed to air, which meant it would also burn for a lot longer. He sighed and slumped over the table in overheated _bored_ misery, watching the distant drifting clouds in the blue sky, listening to the gleeful shrieks of tourists and children as the geysers blasted skywards not too far away. The distant shrill of thunderbirds and wyverns on the air, the deep growl of -

The Regalia!

He sat up in excitement only to groan and flop backwards once more at the heat. Nope. No. He needed something cold to drink before he died. Dave would forgive him for wasting money this once, surely? He knew how hot Ravatogh was and he'd been there for _days_ already!

Harry shuffled his way to the far too amused tipster who didn't even wait for him to open his mouth before he was holding out a blessedly cold drink.

“You are an angel amongst men,” Harry moaned, shoving one of his cards at the man before snatching the cold bottle in both hands. The tipster just laughed and charged him before returning the card.

“Got the tongue of an angel too if you ever fancy something hotter than the weather,” he teased with a wink.

Harry grimaced, “Ugh no. I would die,” he complained. How could anyone eat spicy food in this weather? Just hanging around his stall was making his nose-hair curl. He ignored the outright cackle that comment earned him as he returned away just in time for the Regalia to catch the mid-afternoon sunlight and fucking _blind_ him. He cursed, flinching backwards and covering his eyes, grumbling as he shuffled back to his seat. Stupid fancy city boys and their fancy convertible, they probably got some _wonderful_ headwind on that. Who needed AC in Cleigne when going thirty miles an hour whipped the heat from the air more effectively. God he missed flying.

He sipped on his cold drink, taking a moment to practically rub it across his entire face, neck, and chest with an almost sinful sigh of relief. That was it. As soon as he finished here he was going and he was _skinny dipping_ at Catalan's Plunge. Hypothermia? Never heard of him. He was more at threat of heat-stroke right now.

He just kind of sat there for a bit, staring off into nothing, drink pressed against his face.

Then a far too hot hand slid over his shoulders and he couldn't stop himself from whining in disgust and shoving it away, “It is too _hot_! No!” he snapped childishly, rolling his head to glower up at Cor whose expression went from startled (slightly wider eyes than usual) to fondly amused (eyes slightly crinkled, left edge of his mouth curling upward).

Regis laughed and Harry grumbled, turning away and shoving the other side of his face against his drink.

He grumbled, but didn't shove the Insomnian away when Cor leaned over and dropped a kiss against his forehead.

“I take it its been rather warm here abouts?” Weskham asked as if butter wouldn't have melted after thirty seconds on a metal surface in this god-forsaken heat trap.

“I'm dying,” Harry told him factually, prompting snorts of laughter from the others.

“It ain't that bad,” Cid scoffed in amusement, “I like it.”

“You would, bloody reptile,” Harry grumbled, eyes lidded as the Retinue locked up the Regalia, got their drinks, and joined him.

“So, what's the deal, Catnip? Tipster didn't say much,” Clarus stated, sprawling in his chair with a cold beer in hand.

Harry grumbled something about how he wasn't allowed to call him that under his breath before straightening up only to slump like the dirty bag of washing he was in his seat. It was too hot. “Found one of your tombs up the volcano,” he grunted, watching as they all perked up in excitement. “Also found a weird ruin that I don't like but want to check out,” and queue worried frowns, “And signs that someone was trying to _dig_ into the volcano. The signs are old, like, by a couple of years, but the way they're positioned and the magic I can _still_ feel in the air it's not particularly comforting.”

Cor frowned, tapping the side of his drink thoughtfully, “There were reports of suspicious Imperial activity in this area. Building equipment. We thought they were attempting a new base but weren't able to make it feasible on a _volcano_. That was back when I was in basic.”

The Shield frowned, suddenly sitting forward, “I don't remember that coming up in any of the war meetings,” he admitted sceptically.

“You would have thought it might,” Harry mused absently, face still pressed against his drink, eyes shit. “Isn't this volcano where Ifrit was supposed to have been buried?”

There was a long silence, and then Cid started swearing, making Harry open his eyes to see the very worried and disturbed expressions on everyone's faces. He frowned and sat up before he realised just what he'd said and what that could very well mean – had Niflheim dug up the corpse of the Infernian to figure out how to kill Astrals, or some other kind of twisted science? But....

“Why bother with the Infernian – ” both he and Regis started to say, only to stop and look at each other, and Regis to continue, “ – when they have the Glacian on their doorstep?” he asked looking at Weskham and Clarus.

Why indeed.

He would have thought a volcano would be more hazardous to traverse than a – wait...

“It was before they killed the Glacian, remember?” he blurted, pointing at the Prince. “Wasn't she only killed a year or so ago? This was three years ago. Why did she suddenly wake up in the first place? Did she sense whatever Niflheim were doing to her husband and get pissed off?” he asked, sitting up properly and looking around them all. “It would explain why after a couple of thousand years taking a dirt nap she decides to get up and go running for the capitol, and why the military flipped their ever loving shit enough to kill a goddess.”

It would also explain why they had an army able to handle a rampaging Astral already mobilised in that area.

He could practically see the realisation in Cor's eyes, and the resulting bitch-face it prompted as the sixteen year old's expression soured. “We should... confirm the Infernian is gone... before leaping to any other conclusions,” he forced out even though he clearly believed their theory. It made too much sense with the information they had. Half of the Astrals still slumbered. Why indeed did Shiva suddenly decide to wake up and make a beeline for Niflheim if not for a threat to the one she loved? Harry would have gone if they were doing something to Cor. He flushed and busied himself with his drink, firmly shoving the thought aside.

“How much of a hike is it?” Weskham asked, peering up at the sky. “Could we get there and back before nightfall?”

Harry scoffed, “Hell no. But we can get to the Haven up there a little after sunset. It's a four hour hike, and that's without having to fight fiends.”

Uncertain grumbles and hums went up amidst the group. “We should wait for tomorrow,” Weskham muttered, rubbing his chin.

“Fighting daemons while the ground is literally on fire doesn't sound like my idea of a good time,” Clarus admitted with a small huff of amusement.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Did you guys forget daemon hunting is my speciality?” he asked blandly, causing them to look his way in surprise. He sighed, “We'll be fine. None of the daemons on the trail are particularly dangerous and the route we're taking doesn't head to any environmental hazards. Don't know about the arena though, but the Haven is before that so it won't matter.”

“Arena?” Cor echoed with a concerned frown.

The Gryffindor flapped a hand, slumping forward to nuzzle his now only vaguely cool drink, “Where Niflheim did most of the digging. Suspiciously giant open space we have to cross anyway to get to your tomb. The Haven overlooks it and it's completely sunken in so you can't see it from this side of the mountain.” And if _Harry_ had noticed this world's unfortunate propensity to have large beasties or uncommonly powerful daemons appear in suspiciously open spaces then surely the _locals_ had realised as well.

Regis got to his feet, “Let's get a few more cold drinks and make a move. It will give us more time to investigate tomorrow if we spend the night at the Haven,” he concluded, heading back towards the tipster who plastered a flirty smile on his lips as the Prince approached.

Harry groaned and hauled himself to his feet, “Gunna die of heat stroke,” he complained grumpily before chugging the last of his drink and tossing the bottle over Regis' shoulder into the bin beside the tipster, making the two jump even as he turned away to go and get the Iron Assault. Back in the caravan he also took a moment to run a cloth under the cold tap and cool himself off a little by wiping away the dried on sweat from his face, neck, arms, pits, and chest (he knew they probably wouldn't care, but he absolutely did not want to be the stinky one, not right now), he also refilled his canteen and an extra water bottle, and re-equipped all of his knives and quicksilvers back into their customary locations.

He was about as ready as he could be at this point, so grabbed his backpack, his cannon, and headed out.

Cid was happy to whisk both items away into his magic pocket as the rest of the Retinue went about sorting themselves out before their hike, the two of them taking a moment to catch up. Cid asking after Kimya and Harry grumbling about the property market in Lucis much to the old man's amusement. “Prices a'places in a city like Lestallum are always gunna be higher than somewhere else, Catnip,” he pointed out with a shake of his head. “Try lookin' inter rented properties. Outright buyin'll be outta yer price range fer a while yet.”

Harry wrinkled his nose where he was squatting in the shade of the Regalia, “You say that, but Dave and I have been busting our chops for the last three weeks. We're halfway to affording a place outright, but I'm pretty sure the former owner increases the price every week.” He huffed, propping his chin up on an elbow, “I'm worried that if we go for a rented place, Kimya won't be able to afford it when I leave,” he pointed out morosely. “If we buy it outright then at least she'll have a secure roof over her head no matter what.”

Cid hummed and then dug into the armiger before flicking a hunt-card at him, “Consider this fer services rendered in th'past then. And no, it won' break that fancy contract y'al made. This is from me ter you.” He folded his arms, looking sharp and angry all over again like he had when Dianthus Amacitia was writing it up in that meeting room.

In absolutely no position to refuse the man's kindness, Harry tucked it up in his backpocket with a murmured thanks, only to _squeak_ when someone pressed cold glass against the back of his neck.

He jumped and flailed, almost falling on his face as he scrambled away.

“Cor!” he complained as Cid started laughing and the Insomnian smirked at him, cold drink still outstretched. Harry jumped to his feet without bothering to dust himself off and huffed, “You're lucky I like you,” he grumbled.

“Consider this my apology,” he offered dryly, wiggling the bottle pointedly.

Oh, it was for him.

“And this is why you're also my favourite,” the Gryffindor amended appropriately as he took it. He must have said something right because it earned him a kiss to the forehead – and instantly had Clarus calling from the other end of the frickin' settlement to behave themselves. Which – honestly – fuck him. He threw the Shield his middle finger before reaching up and yanking the taller boy down for a proper kiss. Maybe next time Clarus would keep his mouth shut. Cor laughing made it a bit difficult to kiss him properly but that was fine, he could hear Weskham groaning and telling the Shield off, asking him honestly what he expected while Regis complained about how he didn't want to _see_ this! That was his baby cousin and practically his little brother – was this some weird kind of incest?! Cid telling him not to be so stupid before barking at everyone to get in the car so they could get this disaster on the road had him laughing by the end of it too.

They broke away and Cor touched the tips of their noses together with a small grin, “Are you going to do this every time Rus heckles us?” he asked quietly.

Good question.

“Probably,” Harry admitted, wriggling his nose a bit at the unfamiliar sensation of someone touching it.

The boyish grin of excitement that stretched on the Insomnian's face made him flush and squirm, looking away just in time to catch the judgemental eyebrows of amusement on Clarus' face as the Shield passed them to get into the car. Harry got another kiss, a quick peck to the lips, before Cor broke away to climb in as well and resume his customary seat in the middle.

Harry thought about it for all of five seconds before climbing in as well, perching himself on the back of the vehicle instead of the seats as there wasn't room, and it was too hot to be in anyone's lap. He wasn't going to waste petrol he couldn't afford taking the truck up after them when he didn't have to. Regis laughed and climbed in, patting his leg as he got himself comfortable. Normally Harry would have been very conscious about the lack of seat-belts in his current position but after spending three weeks driving around Lucis he'd learned one inescapable fact that differentiated it from earth: No one was an asshole on the road here. Maybe it was because of the risk that a crash would leave both of you stranded after-dark where the daemons could get you, or if it was because there was no easy car repair or replacement industry, or even perhaps because cars weren't capable of going very fast, but people drove carefully and safely. Hell, he was pretty sure the national speed-limit was thirty miles an hour. So frankly? Sitting on the back of the Regalia was like using one of the school brooms.

Probably one of the least dangerous things he had ever done.

Made even less so when he felt one of Cor's arms wrap around his calf like an iron band. He was, as usual, a living furnace, but Harry forgave him as he rubbed one of those overly warm large hands up and down his shin as they pulled away from the Verinas Mart and headed up the road.

“Tell me when we reach the bottom of the trail,” Weskham called over his shoulder.

“Will do,” Harry agreed, keeping his eyes peeled for that particular wall that was just to the left of the unmarked trail. It was an hour's walk away from the mart so barely a ten minute drive that was over all too soon as he pointed out where to stop and the Regalia pulled off the main road to park up, and Cor let him go. Now his leg felt cold and he himself had that static pins and needles sensation that came from physical contact that _didn't_ make him wan to claw his skin off but was stopped too soon.

Unfortunately holding hands while hiking up a volcano wasn't exactly the smartest thing they could do, or particularly easy. So they kept their hands to themselves.

Harry took the lead in a nostalgic parody of their first trip to a tomb, only this time Cor was close on his heels purely because he wanted to be close to him, not because of some unspoken rivalry or pissy temper-tantrums between the two of them. Regis and Weskham weren't slipping and sliding over wet vegetation in their unsuitable shoes, and Cid wasn't huffing and puffing from the steep incline they were walking up. No, that would come later though. The temperature went up as they set foot onto the trail properly and Harry groaned unhappily as he felt it, and even Cor swore quietly under his breath and stripped out of his jacket (how the hell he could wear one in this heat was beyond him, but he still took a few seconds to appreciate the very fine view of the soldier in short-sleeves while the rest of the Retinue cursed and followed his example behind them. His ogling went unnoticed thankfully).

And then they were climbing.

And Harry's feet were sweating like mad from the heat coming up from the ground. He hated Ravatogh. He hated it with a passion.

“Swear – I'm going to – throw myself into the lake – at Catalan's Plunge,” he muttered as he came to a stop to wait for the rest of the Retinue to catch up on the steep single-file trail.

Cor laughed breathlessly, wiping a trail of sweat from his chin, “Pretty sure we'll join you.”

Well, he planned on going _skinny dipping_ did that mean – he quickly shook his head before his imagination went in a direction it shouldn't right then and there, and they kept climbing once the others caught up. Weskham paused every now and again to dig up some wild kettier ginger roots, Harry paused once or twice when they downed a Wyvern to harvest the flame sacks, which inevitably left him sticky with blood and thus hot and irritated when they finally reached the climbing portion of their hike because dry blood kept the heat _in_. He may have taken his frustration out on climbing, launching himself up the sheer cliff-face like only a Quidditch player could have, exhausting himself and his anger in the process, and giving him a food fifteen minutes to sit at the top, face turned into the headwind and the first _cool breeze_ he'd felt in a week.

Mmm, that was from the North-East, wind from the Catalan Mountain lake that fed the underground divers into the Vesperpool and fell in that waterfall at the Greyshire Grotto.

He opened his eyes as the dirt in front of him crunched and looked at Cor who quirked half a grin at him. “We probably have ten minutes until Regis gets up here,” he warned as he summoned a bottle of water and cloth from the Armiger. Harry watched dully as he wet the cloth and then pressed it against his face after a short pause, cloth hovering next to his cheek before the Insomnian got to work wiping Harry's face. He sighed quietly and leaned into it in relief.

“Not fair you guys have the Armiger,” he mumbled, eyes shut as the Insomnian cleaned his face of dry sweat, volcanic ash, and dry blood.

“You can't access it?” he asked in surprise.

Harry shook his head, “No. Even if I were trying to hide my magic that thing is too useful not to be used,” he complained as Cor rewet the cloth and started on Harry's hands and arms, gently cooling him down. “How are you not melting in this heat?” he whined plaintively, “I feel like an overcooked meat pie.”

Cor smiled a little but didn't answer. He rinsed and wrung out the cloth and cleaned his own face up, sitting next to Harry on their rock as the rest of the Retinue climbed the cheer cliff and took a brief break in the much appreciated cold breeze, following Cor's example and cleaning themselves up and cooling off. Harry drank from his canteen slowly, not wanting to make himself sick which could happen if you drank too much water too quickly while overheated. But he did, despite the heat, lean against Cor's side and rest his head on the teenager's shoulder, sipping periodically from his canteen in a tired daze.

He blinked in confusion as Cor tensed up, and the sound of a camera go off.

“Wesk,” the teenager growled unhappily and Harry glanced to the Retainer as he cheerfully waved a small white square and vanished the camera away with the other.

He squinted at the sly smirk lingering in the corner of the man's dark mouth, “How many pictures of us have you taken?” he asked suspiciously, he'd seen a few from the beach, but he definitely wasn't dumb enough not to believe he had taken more. After all, the Retinue seemed to think their relationship coming together had been a great form of entertainment since day one.

The barely concealed shit-eating grin did not reassure him. “Oh... a few,” he dismissed with an airy gesture as he examined his photograph, his expression softening slightly before he held it out, “This is one of the better ones though, I would wager.”

Cor looked like he would have enjoyed nothing more than flicking said photograph into the nearest magma run-off, but Harry reached out to collect it without intervention. It was... cute, he guessed. Clarus took up half of the frame, grinning and jerking a thumb at the two of them sat next to each other on their rock. Harry had his eyes shut and was leaning against Cor, head on his shoulder, canteen up to his mouth; the Insomnian was looking down at him with a soft slight smile, his own waterbottle lowered, and their hands ontop of each other, the setting sun coming in from behind Weskham to highlight the two of them against the blue sky and distant Catalan mountain range.

He blinked at it, “You're good at photography,” he decided as he handed it back, wondering if he could get a copy of that later. He was pretty sure Kimya would like it.

He felt Cor's hand tighten on his for a moment, thumb sliding up and down the bones on the back of his hand, and Harry just sipped his water and leaned a little more against him, watching the rest of the Retinue as they cooed over the picture for a bit before it was vanished to join the rest of the collection that Weskham had accrued. Then it was time to get up and carry on, otherwise they were unlikely to reach the Haven in time. Weskham made sure everyone had taken a drink before they pushed off, and Cid had to be nagged to finish at least half of his water bottle before they were allowed to go. Once he did, Harry took the lead again and led them up the steep sandy path that would bring them to the haven. It was slow, hot, sweaty going. The treacherous footing almost proving to be Clarus' undoing when his heavy footsteps dislodged a little too much and almost sent him sliding back down to the bottom. He scraped his fingers bloody grabbing onto a rocky outcropping but avoided an unpleasant tumble down.

They reached the haven a little after dark.

After that it was a familiar routine for the Retinue as they got their camp set up. Harry hopped up on a rock and stayed out of the way, letting them sort themselves out as he finished the water in his canteen. He only came down when they were done in order to help Weskham with the cooking, taking a moment to wash his hands in the bucket of water one of them conjured up.

While the rest of the Retinue washed, Harry and Weskham cooked enough for a small army between the two of them. Not wanting to get anyone or anything dirty before he could clean himself up, Harry parked himself on the ground to eat. He would have been lying if he said he hadn't missed the comradery of the Retinue as they heckled and chattered and teased one another by the light of the campfire. Hunting with Dave was.... not like this. And nights with Kimya were.... hard. Her frustration with her circumstances bled through into a lot of what she did, reminding him intensely of Ezma at times, enough so that he would sometimes have to find some kind of excuse to leave her to her brooding just so he could breathe without feeling like it was entirely his fault that she was in such a state. Both she and Dave had told him time and again that it wasn't but... Well. They were all in a bit of a shit state.

And – and here he was. Eating good food. Laughing with the Retinue, with Cor, while she was locked up in that caravan with Dave in Lestallum.

Suddenly it was like the food was glue in his mouth, sour and tasteless, sickly.

He swallowed with difficulty and choked down the rest before stacking his dishes for one of the others to clean up. He grabbed a bucket and retreated to get himself cleaned up properly and change his clothes. He had already taken every available hunt in this area during the few days waiting for the Retinue to show up. He would help them get their tomb, stick his head into the ruin to make sure there was nothing cataclysmically bad in there, and then head back to Lestallum, make a stop at Burbost Emporium at Catalan's Plunge to see if there were any hunts he needed to do near-by before getting back.

He was still feeling low, but he was clean, dressed, and feeling a little better than before when he returned to the fireside, intending to park himself back where he had been only for his wrist to be caught in an overwarm hand by Cor. The teenager tugged on him a little, a hopeful little smile and – Harry wasn't entirely sure what he wanted but he moved closer anyway, not fighting him at all as he was released, only to have the teenager turn him around so he was facing away and then wrap both arms around his waist and tug – oh.

He flushed darkly but let himself be pulled down into the Insomnian's lap, thankfully unnoticed by the others as they ganged up on Cid and his love of pickled onions (how did they get onto that subject? And what was wrong with pickled onions? Harry quite liked them to be honest).

“Is this okay?” Cor asked against the back of his head, nuzzling into his hair, arms around his waist. No doubt able to feel how tense and uncertain Harry had become.

The wizard pulled a face, it was.... more than usual. Kissing was one thing, Cor had always been careful not to crowd him unless things got a bit.... out of hand. Like in Lestallum. But this wasn't.... crowding him, wasn't trapping him, not really. He knew that to get out of this all he had to do was stand up and Cor would let him go. And if he didn't Harry could still quite easily escape if he wanted to. He wasn't bracketed in or pinned down like he would have been had their positions been reversed and....

He nodded and, hesitantly, leaned back against him, feeling Cor's breath catch a little, “It's okay. Just.... need to get used to it,” he admitted uncertainly. He _wanted_ to get used to it, which was a new one.

Cor shifted and leaned back in his seat, encouraging Harry to lean back with him slowly which, it felt a bit unstable what with the both of them in a _camping_ chair, but if it could handle Clarus' weight it could probably handle his skinny ass. But he trusted Cor, he went with him, feeling him run his hand up and down Harry's arm quietly as the two of them watched the Great Pickled Onion Debate rage.

The Insomnian kissed the side of his head and Harry wasn't entirely sure when he eventually fell asleep, just that Cor was warm and comfortable, and the raised voices reminded him of Gryffindor Tower too much that it almost felt like home. Even the taste of ash reminded him of the fireplace in the common room....

* * *

He woke up exactly where he fell asleep, curled up on Cor's lap, in the camp chair. Only now they were both covered and tucked into a light weight blanket that was spotted with a few flecks of ash that continued to rain down from the top of the volcano. The first rays of dawn were creeping up over the mountains and, of course, their chair was perfectly positioned to get full cool breeze, but that also meant they were directly in the gap that let the rising sun glare directly into their eyes.

Harry grumbled, shifting a little and burying his face into the side of Cor's neck, feeling the soldier wake up and tighten his grip around him for a moment before he grunted and wriggled under him a bit, stretching his legs out.

They must have gone numb from having Harry in his lap all night.

“Sorry,” he rasped quietly, guiltily, and attempted to get up, only for Cor to tighten his grip and pull him back with an unhappy grunt, using one of his hands to catch his chin and turn his head for a good morning kiss.

“We have an hour before the others wake up,” he muttered against the Gryffindor's lips, making something twist sharply in the pit of his stomach as Cor's hands shifted under the blanket, sliding up his shirt to touch the skin of his back. The Insomnian pulled away and dropped a few light kisses against his mouth, holding his hands still on his lower back and leg before pulling back to look him in the eye. “Your pace, Harry. Promise,” he whispered, rubbing the hand on his leg up and down soothingly.

After that the kisses got a lot more tongue involved with them, and Harry felt a very _different_ kind of adrenaline rush but one that none the less left him shaky and out of breath. He didn't even have to _say_ no the one time he was startled enough to pull back, Cor immediately stopped, apologised, and moved his hand away before asking if he wanted to keep going or stop. He even waited until Harry finished thinking it through, until he nodded and moved back towards him before continuing, and even then he kept his roaming hands to familiar ground.

By the time they heard the faint chimes from Weskham's wristwatch, Harry was well and truly _visibly_ ruffled.

Cor smirked smugly to see it, only to yelp a little and laugh when Harry pinched him with an embarrassed scowl.

Weskham would see none of it when he stepped out of the tent, fully dressed, to find the soldier dragging his fingers through Harry's hair in an effort to tame it, only to snicker as the strands continued to fluff up in the early morning light. Their messy clothes could easily be attributed to how they slept, and the man didn't even look at them twice, or notice the nervous glances Harry threw in his direction.

He did notice when Cor took his turned back as an opportunity to sneak one final kiss, and cleared his throat pointedly with a raised eyebrow as the Gryffindor groaned and hid his face in the soldier's shoulder. Cor just grinned unrepentantly at the Retainer, rubbing Harry's back soothingly.

“Behave,” the man commanded playfully, pointing a spatula at them, “Or I will be forced to revisit the discussion regarding safe sexual practices. A discussion I still haven't _had_ with you, Harry, and I believe I probably should.”

Cor tightened his grip and laughed as Harry immediately tried to launch himself away. The bloody traitor!

No more kisses for him! Jail! Jail for two thousand years!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PART 2 OF THE HATED YOU FROM HELLO SERIES
> 
> And here in I shove relationship development fluff down people's throats so hard they'll hopefully choke on it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** call back to old anti-semitism conspiracy theory

Weskham did not give him 'The Talk', thank fuck, but he did wave a ladle quite threateningly and tell him that it was coming, and there would be no escape.

Harry begged to differ, but kept his mouth shut so he didn't tip the retainer off.

With the sun rising, Harry squirmed his way free of Cor's lap because _nope_ , no, way too hot, nuh'uh, no thank you. He dropped himself into the shade where there was as much of a cool breeze as possible, already feeling like his skin was too small for his too hot blood. Not even Privet Drive got this hot. He missed Scotland like a toothache.

They ate a quick breakfast and began to pack up the camp as there would be no way of returning to it once they hit the Arena below – something they could now see in the light of day and had Clarus whistling in appreciation, until he saw the huge holes that had been _drilled_ into the mountainside and the various scattered half buried machines left behind. Faces went grim at the obvious evidence of Imperial interferance, and they followed Harry down the small side path that would take them safely down into the arena.

When they reached it, Harry's teeth started aching with magical saturation like last time, it was no less unpleasant now for the experience or familiarity, and he shuddered at the echo of it even as he showed the Retinue around. The bore-holes were deep, but already being filled with volcanic ash, to say nothing of the machinery quietly being consumed by the ashy flakes. Another few years and they would be consumed entirely. Who knew how long it would take to completely fill in the holes though, anywhere between fifty to a hundred years he would have wagered.

Either way, the holes vented enough heat that Harry felt sick just being near them and was quick yo move away and head for the tiny crack half-way up the wall that would lead to the Tomb. How the hell Niflheim hadn't found it, or rather, why they'd left it alone was anyone's guess. Maybe they hadn't wanted to risk whatever magical backlash that might happen interfering with Ifrit if they messed with it? Or maybe they just hadn't seen the white structure encased in the black stone around it from the angle of their approach? It wasn't like those flying bricks had much in the way of windows.

Cid, as the most lizard-like heat resistant member of the Retinue, affixed a line to himself and decided to go crawling into one of the oven like holes to see how far down it went and whether or not anything was left behind. Harry grimaced to see it happening. Worried despite his trust in them. Like most little boys he had been thrilled to learn everything he could about dinosaurs, sharks, volcanoes, meteors, and earthquakes at school. Rome and Pompeii had been a whole unit back in Year Five history and he remembered doing a report on the eruption of St Helens' as homework. He'd spent over an hour reading about volcanoes and volcanic ash in the school library, specifically on how toxic and _heavy_ that ash was – heavy enough to collapse the roof of a car with only a three inch thick layer if he recalled correctly. The ash had killed more people than the magma when the volcano erupted at pompeii. Something about Pyro-Plastic rolls? The absolute hottest part of the eruption that travelled faster than people could run. He didn't like the idea of Cid going down a very small hole filled with the very real threat of suffocating on ash, or being baked to death by heat.

But then again.

Eos was a world that was _created_. It didn't come about by evolution and complex organisms and ores and environmental incidents. The people here were _created_. Their gods actually existed and interfered. Magic was knitted into the very fabric of the world here. Harry had yet to see anyone with any _born_ disabilities, be they mental or physical. Dave had never heard of anyone who had been born blind, or deaf, or even without a limb, and Harry hadn't a hope in hell of describing something like profound autism or downs syndrome or the many other genetic disabilities or mental disabilities. Hell, dyslexia and dyspraxia were unheard of without there being severe headtrauma involved, and Harry didn't know how to feel about that. Was the environment the same? He had noticed that there were so very few insect species here, vanishingly few birds and rodents, fiends were a plenty, but there was practically nothing in the way of livestock or other wild animals. Wild dogs happened, but they were all domesticated at some point and were either abandoned or escaped/ran away, no such thing as foxes or squirrels (no fucking squirrels? Pigeons existed, but they were apparently only in Insomnia???). Even the _fish_ were weird thinking about it. The mountain ranges didn't work right according to what geography and science Harry had been raised with, neither did the rivers, or even the _climates_ – Lucis was not a large country, and yet it had _three_ separate and distinct climates not including Ravatogh itself, in a stretch of space as large as England's southcoast from Penzance at the tip of Cornwall to Dover at the assend of the South East behind London.

He'd never been near a real volcano, but he was also pretty sure that Ravatogh wasn't quite right either.

It was too small for a start.

He wondered, in the back of his poor overheated mush of a brain, if his coming from a species of humanity that came about via evolution made him a fundamentally different kind of being from the Eosians. Would he legally class as human to them if they knew? He didn't even have to wonder if they would class as human to the Ministry – all prior evidence and experience stated that no, they would not. He wondered if, as creations of the Astrals, whether they would even attain 'Being' classification or if they would be considered in the same bracket as an Inferi, a golem, or _conjuration_?

God, what was he even thinking?

“I need some air,” he managed to get out to the nearest member of the Retinue, too frazzled to identify who, and quickly climbed out of the arena, practically getting slapped in the face immediately with a sharp cold wind blowing up from the coast. It almost felt like it was blowing all the stupid, sticky, cobweb-y thoughts out of his brain as he shivered and breathed deep.

“You alright?”

He jumped, cursing in surprise as he whirled around to see Cor behind him.

“Fuck, don't _do_ that you sneaky bastard!” he rasped, ignoring the small smile that flickered across the other teenager's face. How the fuck he was able to sneak up on him in those boots was forever going to piss him the hell off. He didn't think about how it was probably the fact that he trusted Cor enough to hear and dismiss his moving around behind him. Thankfully the Insomnian didn't go for a hug, it was still WAY too hot for that nonsense as evidenced by the fact that the Retinue were still pretty much almost all down to their undershirts, or outright shirtless by this point.

“Sorry.”

Harry huffed in amusement, shooting him a mock glower, “No you're not.”

“No I'm not,” he agreed, sitting down on one of the jagged rocky edges. “Are you alright though?” he repeated with a small frown of concern, glancing up and down him carefully.

The Gryffindor waved a half dismissively, “Heat was making me stupid. Just needed some air.” His boyfriend nodded seriously, still watching him attentively, obviously waiting for further explanation. It took all of thirty seconds for Harry to crumble like a house of cheap exploding cards. “Like, the majority of humanity were made by Astrals, right? So does that mean you don't get any of the disabilities the rest of us do? And, would my Government even classify you _as_ human since you're from a created species? Astrals have never bothered with us, we weren't made by them, we don't worship them, hell, there's a long history with plenty of made up gods and a key point in _most_ of those stories is that eventually when they turn tyrannical a Hero rises up to kill the gods and usher in a new era. And my Government is literally _awful_ to non-humans, even humans that are just deemed 'not the right sort'. I'm considered a halfblood because of my mother, there are people who would say I deserved Second Class citizen status because of it, while my mother shouldn't even be considered human because she was a 'mudblood'. There's been arguments for decades, centuries, on and off, over it all. So I had a stupid moment where I got worried about it and then wondered about you guys and what would happen to you if any of you came home with me and – ” He glanced over at Cor mid-sentence, catching the look of stunned confusion on his face, and immediately shut up with a flush and an awkward scratch to the back of his head. “Like I said, I was thinking stupid shit and needed a second to clear my head,” he summed up in embarrassment, looking away.

He twitched a little when Cor caught his hand and squeezed it a little, “You think of some very strange things, Harry,” he said, tugging him closer and setting both hands on the Gryffindor's hips, thumbs hooked through his belt-loops as he looked up at him thoughtfully, “But, they're worth thinking about,” he decided slowly. “Humanity _was_ created by the Astrals, the whole world was. Leviathan disapproved and didn't involve herself, which, now that I think about – is probably a good thing. Lizard people would be weird,” he admitted, frowning a little in disturbed bewilderment.

Harry snickered, “Lizard people secretly rule the world, didn't you know? Lizard Pope is the head of the Illuminati.”

Cor smiled a little helplessly up at him, “I don't know what any of those words mean.”

“You two had better be behaving yourselves out there!” Clarus' voice interrupted, loudly, “Five seconds to get dressed!”

“Wait!” Harry yelped, “Let me put my face back on, no one is ready to know I am one of the lizard people!” he called, making Cor snort and bury his face in his stomach and shudder with suppressed laughter.

“What?” Regis blurted, laughing as the rest of the 'adults' (Harry called bullshit) came through the crack in the wall, grinning and rubbing their ashy hands off on their trousers, making Weskham wince a little as they further ground it into the very expensive fabric that he was going to be labouring over to get clean later that night. They all looked a little strained and rather pale under the dirty smears, so clearly they hadn't found anything particularly good. Distraction time.

Harry nodded sagely, running his fingers through Cor's short, slightly sweaty hair as the teenager continued to snicker into his bellybutton, “Lizard Pope is secretly in charge of the world. No one can know I am his illegitimate lizard child. None of you saw or heard a thing.”

“Wh-what?” Regis repeated, now outright guffawing.

“Exactly,” Harry agreed peaceably, smiling mildly at them all as Cid poured a bottle of water over his head and attempted to scrub the ash from his face, and only ended up smearing and moving it around a bit.

There was a lot of confusion and slightly forced hilarity that Harry carefully maintained as they headed up to the Tomb until everyone began to relax at least a little. It still confused him as to _how_ it was missed, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth as Regis unlocked the door and went inside to obtain some more of his ancestral power. Being this close to it felt kind of weird, like sticking his hand in a patronus charm but without any of the happy fuzzy feelings that came with it – more of an adrenaline rush mixed with tooth-grinding rage that left you cold and shaking for hours even after the heat had passed. Regis had angry ass ancestors.

The return trip down to the car was a _lot_ faster than going up, they actually managed to roll into the Verinas Mart in time to pick up some lunch – which Harry very cheerfully refused and watched with horror and fascination as Cor and Clarus dug into their ultra spicy food with gusto while Weskham and Regis choked and politely chugged their drinks before sliding their uneaten food to the others. Cid just cackled quietly into the sandwich he'd pulled out of the Armiger, and handed Harry an orange to enjoy in the meanwhile.

Once they'd finished eating, drunk enough water to feel uncomfortable and be surprised that they didn't audibly _slosh_ as they walked, they left once again to go and investigate Harry's mysterious building on the otherside of the stone ridge. It was a short hike with very little fiend activity, climbing the ridge was the hard part, most of the Retinue needed a leg up while both Weskham and Harry ran at the wall and Parkoured up it like he'd seen the teenagers doing in London during summer holidays.

On the otherside, they had to avoid a nest of what first looked like chickatrice but Cor was quick to correct them, his encyclopaedic knowledge of fiends and daemons identifying them as a much more dangerous and volatile species known as a Royalist and its Regaltrice young. They gave the patrolling birds a wide berth as they headed to the distant blue ribbon of a haven, and the strange building that even from _this_ far back was making Harry feel itchy under his skin with discomfort. It felt like Steyliff Grove and Solheim Doors on _crystal meth_.

“That is a very uncomfortable feeling,” Regis complained as they hiked across the black earth, though thankfully far away from the oppressive heat of the volcano.

“Reg?” Clarus prompted warily.

“You can't feel it?” the Prince asked, confused.

“It's the magic,” Harry grunted, rubbing his arms. “It's _really_ strong here, but different to the echo from the Astrals.”

“Rather more akin to Costlemark and Steyliff Grove,” Regis agreed with a grimace.

Not just them. It felt familiar, but for the life of him Harry couldn't identify _why_. It wasn't Steyliff or Costle, he _knew_ he'd felt this kind of thing elsewhere, it didn't remind him of either location. Part of him tentatively wanted to say it was from when he ended up on Eos, but with that blank spot he got from that concussion mixing with what he was pretty sure was a confundus.... he had no way of knowing.

Still. The whole place made him feel uncomfortable, and with that niggling feeling of familiarity, he couldn't _not_ investigate.

* * *

“Are.... you sure this is it?” Clarus asked, looking up at the stone square doubtfully.

Both Regis and Harry nodded, looking uncomfortable.

It was really nothing like any kind of Solheim ruin they had encountered before, it was like _nothing_ they had ever encountered before. But it was undoubtedly the source of the strange overwhelming magic.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Harry squared his shoulders and marched forward, he had been the one to first find the place, he had been the one to request their back up while he investigated, it only made sense that he took point and was the first into the building. He climbed the stairs, having to take a run up to jump over the broken walk-way to the otherside, and headed around the corner. He could see a ledge above his head, but attempting to jump up to it had his fingers bouncing off some red shield that left his fingers stinging and numb as he shook them out and scowled.

Everything up ahead was made of almost fossilised metal bars, save for a section that seemed to have snapped off and vanished, not even dust remaining, that was just big enough for someone to get through to the otherside – where there was a pressure plate on a suspiciously unmoulded section of flooring.

He climbed up and in, drawing his pistols as he went. And tapped the plate.

It was only when it lit up bloody red, and the walls began to rise on either side of him as the floor went down that he realised it was unusually quiet – _and he was alone_.

Alone in a creepy almost pitch black building, and the floor wasn't taking him back up again.

Fuck.

He stared in dismay at the glowing orange _spikes_ attached to the two ceiling blows going up and down in front of him, was this some kind of _video game?_ He shook his head and darted under the spikes through the small opening in front of him, creeping forward out of the small chamber and then stopped, staring around himself in sheer disbelief.

It was.... It was a bottomless bag. It was bigger on the inside. He could feel it now, this space had been expanded, enlarged to such a degree he couldn't even perceive the edges anymore. There was so much power here and – all of it space/time. This place was _completely_ cut off from everything. But – it wasn't dead.

There was _life_ in here, _everywhere_ in here.

And as Harry stepped forward, he could see strange dragonfly-like organisms fluttering in the air, they floated almost weightlessly, their wings no where near moving quickly enough to support their almost dreamy drifting through the air. And then there were the statues. Huge shirtless buff men, a metal statue of a guy with horns in the distance, more of those glowing orange spikes, glowing touch plates, and something metal that had a face carved onto it that glittered with red light behind it.

“Where the hell am I?” Harry wondered aloud.

Nothing answered him of course.

* * *

It – he didn't – he felt sick. He was distantly aware that he was trembling, his vision was dark at the edges, he was so tired, practically staggering, his knees feeling weak, his breathing laboured, and his mouth tasted like the bottom of Hedwig's cage. He – he didn't remember the last time he actually drank something. It was probably dehydration.

But – that was – that was sunlight.

His eyes _ached_.

That was _fresh_ air.

He staggered forward, blinded, and felt his feet tangle in something – he went down grunting in pain as his chest hit a hard edge, arm, shoulders, and head hanging out over open space. Open space, this was – the ledge. The ledge he couldn't climb up before.

He pushed himself forward, tumbling out of the opening to hit the ground hard, still feeling dizzy and weak, semi-mummified black fabric tangled around his feet. Magic tingled on his fingertips as he tried to yank it off, overstressed weak muscles refusing to cooperate, he couldn't – he _couldn't –_

“Harry? That you?!”

Clarus?

He kicked one leg free and pushed himself upright again, clinging to the wall and shuffling his way forward. There was a jump, that was easy, he could do jumps, everything had been jumps in there, that was a wide platform, he could make the landing no problem. The air was cool and sweet as he jumped – landing in an easy crouch.

“You okay? Harry?” Clarus demanded next to him, when – when did he get there?

“How – long?” he found himself rasping. How long had he been in there, how long had they been waiting for him? Time was impossible to tell in there, there was no light, he tried to Apparate out once, the backlash had knocked him _flat out_ unconscious for who knew how long. He could only be thankful that there were no daemons in that darkness, or he really would have died. Then there was the number of times he'd 'died' in there, and been burst back into existence, forcibly transported, who knew, he didn't know, he felt _sick_.

“Almost three days,” the Shield told him, “Here, drink it slowly. Cor said you didn't have access to the Armiger.” A bottle of jetty was pushed under his nose, “You drink that and I'll carry you back to the camp, okay? Put your arm around, no, just,” he sighed and crouched in front of him, turning and grabbing Harry's free arm to go over his shoulder. Piggyback ride. Okay. Yeah. He could – he could deal with that.

Weird.... His thoughts were all fuzzy and kind of far away as the older man picked him up and began to hustle down the path. Nudging him every now and again with a reminder to take a drink and stay awake, he could sleep once they got another two drinks and something to eat in him. Stay awake Catnip. Fuck you're cold as _ice_.

He finished his drink by the time he saw the haven in the distance, and Clarus was quick yo take the empty bottle away and replace it.

Feeling fluid soaking into your brain was not the _weirdest_ sensation Harry had ever felt, but it was – it was something – nice. Weird. Weirdnice. Nicely weird?

He was still exhausted, but by the time he was halfway through his second bottle he felt a little more turned on as they climbed to the top of the haven and both Weskham and Cid jumped up to fuss over him. The tent was ripped open shortly afterwards, both Regis and Cor scrambling out in their nightclothes to launch themselves at him, the Prince babbling with worry while Cor just latched on tightly in silence.

“We tried to follow you in,” Regis promised as Cor physically picked him up and sat down with him bundled up tightly in his lap, a blanket being pulled out of the Armiger now being tucked up around him. He leaned into his own personal living furnace and slowly shook his head.

“Wouldn't have recommended it,” he rasped weakly, “Not enough space for multiple people on those platforms,” he admitted, eyes sliding shut.

“Hey, no sleeping, not yet. Here, drink some more. You're massively dehydrated,” Clarus commanded, swapping out his empty bottle of water for a fresh one. “When you've finished that, you need to eat, _then_ you and Cor are going back to bed. No, don't argue with me you punk,” the Shield snapped, glaring as Cor stiffened and whipped his head up to glare at him. “You only went down four hours ago, its been almost seventy two hours since you slept. You're going to bed,” he declared, pointing in the sixteen year old's face, “You've even got your favourite teddybear, so don't gimme any of the lip. Just.... _rest_ , for fuck's sake, _please!_ ”

Harry leaned into him, “I'm tired,” he muttered, immediately taking any kind of fight out of the Insomnian who huffed out a long slightly sulky breath and dropped his face into the back of Harry's neck.

“Food first, okay, Catnip? Then you can sleep,” Clarus promised, reaching out and gently ruffling his hair before going to help Weskham with the food.

“Not a kid,” Cor grumbled quietly against his neck. Harry just hummed in a tired daze.

“Did you find out what that place was?” Regis asked anxiously, still crouched in front of them.

Harry shrugged weakly, “Some kind of training ground, maybe? Seriously, don't go in there. I – physics is broken in there, I think? Gravity doesn't work right, I think I was walking on the ceiling at one point? I don't – if it weren't.... the way it was? I lost my footing a few times. If there had been any kind of _real_ bottom in there....” he trailed off, and felt Cor's arms tighten around him, his breathing hitch, and rubbed at the teenager's arm beneath the blankets. “I didn't get hurt, obviously, but.... There were these orange spikes in there too. Some.... train thing with a huge skull.... Is – is there another Astral? Beyond the Six? There was this.... lady. A huge statue of a woman. It looked like something in a one of those Cosmogeny books,” he admitted hazily with a frown.

Regis shook his head, “No. Perhaps it was one of the Messengers. There were twenty four of them, and not all of them are remembered, many of them were killed during the Solheim war and against Daemons in the years since.”

He hummed lowly, and sipped his water again.

“Keep yer eyes open, Catnip,” Cid said, patting his head out of nowhere, startling him back into awareness. “What's this bout a train thing with a skull?”

“Doom train,” Harry decided distantly, “Big.... spiky thing. Huge. Bigger than the actual building. Whole thing inside is bigger than.... bigger on the inside. Much bigger. All magic. So much jumping. Lots of bugs.... Nice bugs though, not those.... horrible giant ones.”

Cor nuzzled into the back of his neck, he was being quite nice and not mentioning how horrible he must have smelt at this point. If it had been several days since he'd gone in there, and he'd been running around in a stagnant airless chamber with weird hot metal and greasy horrible black smears across the floors, sweating the whole while, and not to mention the whole thing coming down from the volcano.

Weskham came over with a bowl in hand, “Harry, here, some stew. Eat as much as you can,” he said, making sure he actually had a hold of said bowl before letting go and letting him start eating. It was undoubtedly delicious, but Harry was so tired he couldn't actually taste anything right now. It all felt like sticky glue in his mouth as he forced it down with as much chomping as he could manage. He got, maybe, halfway through the bowl before Cor grunted pointedly and Weskham took it off him, saying something that Harry couldn't understand.

He lost a little time, snapping back to awareness as Cor shifted the blankets around him and stood up, practically carrying carrying him into the Retinue's shared tent. He managed to make enough of a fuss that he was mostly left to his own devices when it came to wriggling into someone's spare shirt, but he didn't have a hope in hell of protesting the sleeping arrangements given how clingy Cor was being – which he had absolutely no intention of doing so either. Being stuck in that weird pocket dimension had been.... terrifying.

Falling to his death was impossible, impaling himself was impossible, if he didn't get out within a certain period of time then he would have to suffer a slow and painful death via dehydration and starvation, and that had been.... after a while when the thirst and the hunger pangs left him light headed and probably a little delirious, that had been a real concern. A fear. He hoped that the tear tracks from that little hysterical five minute panic attack weren't visible. He probably clung onto Cor just as tightly as the sixteen year old did to him. Not that it mattered for very long – as soon as he was horizontal, and everything was quiet, he was _out_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya guys, I hope this chapter answers some worldbuilding questions on Eos that I have headcanons for.
> 
> Yes, it is canon that Eos and humanity and everything except for the daemons were created by the Astrals, ergo, they did not come about via evolution. And its likely that the reason Starscourge is so terrifying and unstoppable to them is because they don't experience disease, plague, or viruses the way that we do. And, as much as it does pain me because I am absolutely 100% a LGBTA+ ally, I signed for my former bestfriend's name change paperwork, I've supported at least three friends through major transition periods in their lives, several others through minor ones, etc, etc, etc. But because of those experiences with them, the misery they have experienced, the joy they felt when _finally_ they felt comfortable in their skin, in themselves, in their world, I do not think trans-individuals would exist on Eos purely because it would have to be something that the Astrals built _into_ humanity. I can't see Ifrit, who in the beginning was a great champion for humanity, would support the needless suffering of forcing someone to live with a sex that was wholly uncomfortable, incorrect, or even repulsive to them mentally and spiritually. It would be the same reason why we _never_ see anyone with any physical or mental disabilities in Eos, never see any accessibility areas save in locations like Insomnia/Niflheim which I imagine would have large numbers of veterans with injuries from their various wars. I mean - Altissia is undoubtedly _beautiful_ but it is so _hostile_ to people with mobility problems. I legit felt uncomfortable playing through it the first time because.... where are the ramps? Where's the access routes? What the fuck guys? So, this is my answer to this. It's the only one that I've stumbled across that makes sense.
> 
> I apologise profusely if this makes people uncomfortable, as said, it is just a personal headcanon to explain the awful lack of representation and visible access facilities in a way that makes sense within the framework of canon information provided. Feel free to disregard this at your leisure if you disagree, and if you do, please do share your own ideas in the comments. I'd love to hear any worldbuilding ideas people have and why.
> 
> Now, moving on, YES THIS IS PITIOSS RUINS!! God, could you imagine how terrifying that place would be to a sixteen year old who can't get out, who doesn't know what this place is, and can't find anything to fight, it's just empty and quiet and cold and is he going to die in here? Alone? Unfound? What happened to the others? Why couldn't they follow him in?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** Xenophobia

Consciousness was a quagmire, he woke up several times, tired and dazed and terrified, but every time it was easier and easier to shake off the cobwebs of confusion – there was no possible way to mistake Cor's sleeping bag for the cold hard metal flooring of the ruins. The smell of unwashed teenage boy for stagnant cold hair. The sound of Cor's heartbeat in his ear for distant grinding machinery.

He stared at his boyfriend's chin in a distant haze, body heavy, bladder too full and uncomfortable, he had to move, but he didn't want to. Cor was sleeping. He would wake up if Harry so much as twitched, he had been worrying too much over him, not sleeping like he should have been.

But he needed to go or he was going to piss on them both and that was a step too far for Harry's sensibilities.

He shifted, slowly and carefully untangling himself from blankets and limbs, grimacing a little at the smell of himself. But Cor didn't so much as stir, he was _out_.

His limbs still felt like rubber as he clambered out of the tent, realising that he couldn't hear any of the Retinue, that none of them were actually there, leaving him and Cor to sleep alone in peace. What they were doing he didn't know, but Harry did see his backpack, its contents carefully laid out. Looked like someone was in the process of repairing some of his leathers, his broken little chest-light was cleaned and repaired, the cracked glass fixed, and his ration box had been refilled with carefully sized and wrapped dry food that had _definitely_ been made by Weskham.

Touched, he rubbed at his aching eyes for a moment before gathering his night-clothes, some soap, and a cloth and going to take a piss and clean up. There were plenty of hot water springs around here, they smelt of sulphur, but that was what his overpoweringly lemon scented soap was for dealing with – that and the lingering funk of daemon miasma and fiend blood. He quickly washed up, and then cleaned and soaped his borrowed clothing before getting dressed in the dry set and going to lay his borrowed ones out to dry.

Cor was still sleeping when he crawled back into the tent feeling tired and wrung out all over again.

He felt absolutely no shame in worming his way back under the blankets and tucking himself back up against him to sleep, feeling him automatically roll and throw an arm around him, dragging him in close and tucking his chin up and over his head. It was nice. He breathed in, deep and slow, already feeling his grip on awareness sliding away. Since when did he become so clingy? Oh well... once in a while was okay... right?

“ – almost killed Harry!” Cor was hissing through gritted teeth, trying to remain quiet even as he fairly vibrated under the Gryffindor with sheer rage. His hands were gentle, never stopping their soothing rhythm as they circled his back.

“Let nothing,” Clarus' voice growled unhappily, “You and I know full well that barrier won't let us in. Turns out it won't let _any_ non-magic user in.”

Alarm shot through him like electricity, “Regis went _in?!_ ” he yelped, ripping himself out of Cor's lap, making them both jump like scolded cats.

Clarus held his hands out soothingly, “He's fine. Reggie, get yer ass in here!” he barked, at the tent opening before turning his attention back to Harry. “He had the Armiger, he didn't have to worry about food or drink, and you've already solved all the puzzles, he had a straight shot from open to close, he's fine.”

The tent flap opened and Regis crawled in, he was a little dirty, a bit scuffed, but otherwise alright and Harry felt his arms turn into jelly even as Cor tugged him firmly back into his lap, which was a nice excuse to topple into him with a groan.

“Don't scare me like that,” he complained breathlessly, shoving his face into the Insomnian's armpit in a wordless protest.

“Sorry, thought you were still sleeping,” Clarus apologised, “But as you can see, he's fine.”

“You chose a very appropriate name for that thing – Doom Train,” Regis's voice complimented, sounding semi-amused semi-hysterical as he sat down next to them. Harry grunted, refusing to move, just greedily enjoying Cor's body heat and the hand rubbing up and down his back. He was tired again. That sudden burst of adrenaline had wiped him out and now he was tired and cranky about it.

“If you're going to tell him off, don't hold back on my account,” he grumbled at Cor, and felt his chest hitch with a snort of amusement.

“What was that?” Regis asked, obviously not having heard him.

“He said that if I'm going to tell you off not to hold back on his account,” Cor told him succinctly, “Why in the Six did you go in there Regis? Harry almost died in there and you decide to go in afterwards? What if this time there was no way out?” he demanded sharply, “You've had some stupid ass ideas in the past but this one takes the biscuit. Did I hit you in the head too hard in our last spar? Brain damage is the only excuse I can think of for this!”

“...Somehow that's both a lot cuter and a lot more intimidating than it used to be,” Regis complained absently.

“Regis!” Cor snapped, tightening his grip on Harry, he could feel his body beginning to curl, knees and thighs coming up and, Harry's eyes were already squeezed shut but he scrunched them even more because he did not need his brain's _'helpful'_ contribution about how easily they could crush him.

Clarus snorted, “It's because he isn't thirteen and calling your battle plan retarded. He's also wrapped like an eel around his boyfriend who is doing exactly nothing to stop him from tearing you a new asshole. And rightfully so.”

There was a slapping sound and then Regis started whining.

“So mean!”

“I already gave him the third degree as soon as he dragged his royal ass outta there,” Clarus explained easily, “Weskham had some pointed words to say and I'm pretty sure Cid is holding fire until he can think of some really good insults. Now that you've said your bit, all we gotta do is wait on Harry's telling off and then Regis'll have been scolded by everyone.”

Harry flapped a hand in Regis general direction and twisted so he was no longer trying to smother himself, “It was dumb but I understand. Are you okay?” he asked, looking him in the eye.

“Not a scratch,” he declared cheerfully.

“Not what I meant,” Harry stated flatly, and Regis' smile became a little fixed before he sighed and all the starch went out of him and he... crumpled a little, like an old shirt that slipped from its coat hanger.

“I've been better,” he admitted lowly, glancing to Clarus with a small smile of gratitude as the Shield dropped down to sit next to him, arm going across his shoulders in a gesture of solidarity and support. “I am used to falling from great heights. There were many incidents while learning to warp but....”

“Nothing every really prepares you for _that_ kind of drop,” Harry agreed quietly, feeling Cor's fingers twitch against his side before he rolled over properly to sit in his lap, back to chest. He linked his fingers with the Insomnian's under the covers, giving them a small squeeze. “Not feeling the bottom, not being able to warp, just gravity dragging you down into the black and suddenly – like all the air is yanked out of your lungs and replaced with hot embers, you're back, on your feet, somewhere else.”

Regis nodded, his eyes far away. “The spikes, you see them coming, you expect them to burn but – its numb. You half expect to smell burning but there's nothing. You're just.... back. Even touching them with your hand, not stabbing yourself, you're back.” Harry hummed in agreement, leaning against Cor's chest a little more firmly, holding his hand tightly, feeling his other arm come up beneath the blankets to tangle in his shirt, digging into his stomach. It was tender, but he wasn't about to say anything, only hold his hands. “I can't imagine how it felt to be in there alone without food or water, or any idea of how to get out. I at least knew there was an exit but you....”

Harry closed his eyes, tightening his grip on Cor's fingers for all of a heartbeat, “I won't lie. That was a concern. Pretty sure I broke down at least once. The last day is a bit hard to remember.” He was pretty sure he had been delirious by that point. It was only magic and instinct that kept him running and jumping, the knowledge that if he didn't stop he really would die. And he was nothing if not a survivor.

The Boy Who Lived.

“Is he asleep again?” Regis whispered when Harry didn't respond or move for a moment.

“No,” Harry muttered, “Just... regretting all my life choices.”

“Not all of them I hope,” Cor muttered giving him a small squeeze.

“...That one less so,” he was forced to admit because he was not moving any time soon and he didn't want Cor to dump him on his ass either. It earned him a snort of amusement and a kiss to the forehead, accompanied by Clarus groaning in disgust.

“Oh shut up, I've had to deal with _your_ idea of flirting since we left Insomnia,” Cor snapped defensively, drawing up again, prickly.

“And I believe that is my cue, dinner is ready gentlemen!” Weskham announced as Clarus opened his mouth to retort something that probably would have started another argument if the mulish slant to Cor's features was any indication. Regis just chortled as his Shield dragged a hand through his hair and slinked out of the tent.

“He's just jealous,” the Prince mouthed quietly before getting up, knees popping as he did so, “I'd suggest getting dressed before heading out, it is a little chilly and looks like it will rain tonight,” he advised before slipping out.

Cor tightened his grip before Harry could even attempt to get up, dropping his face down into his hair, “Are _you_ okay? Stupid question but...” he trailed off, his voice shaking slightly.

Harry twisted in his lap, rolling over and pushing forward so he was sat upright before winding his arms around him in a proper hug, “Not really but... I'm dealing,” he said, feeling Cor wince a little at the familiar words. Words spoken after the massacre of Crestholm. “I'll be fine. Eventually. It was a messed up situation but it isn't the worst I've been through. Just different,” he admitted, leaning into him, temple to temple. He wasn't the only one who needed reassurance he realised, he had been selfish, not realising that Cor had been shaken by the whole thing. As if him worrying himself to insomnia and then blackout sleep hadn't been enough of a clue. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged the soldier even tighter. He was a shit boyfriend.

Cor's breath shook slightly as they squeezed one another tightly.

“Y'all better not be makin' out in there. Yer food's gettin' cold,” Cid's voice rasped grumpily from outside.

“We're not,” Harry grunted in annoyance.

“We could,” Cor muttered irritably.

As contrary as Harry liked to be on occasion, he was hungry, and he doubted Cor had eaten much while waiting at the ruins for him to come out. Food first, he decided, making out could happen later. Preferably when there would not be people near-by to hear.

He kissed the younger boy, feeling him greedily lean into it, try to tangle a hand in the back of his hair to turn his head for a better angle, but Harry broke it first, pulling away. “Later,” he promised when Cor frowned at him in offence. “Food first,” he said, and by the gods of comedic timing, it was actually _Cor's_ stomach that loudly agreed with him.

His boyfriend went pink while Harry burst out laughing and crawled off him to get dressed.

* * *

Storm clouds were gathering and growling by the time they'd finished eating and washed up. They quickly made sure everything was packed away ready to leave in the morning before zipping themselves up in the tent for the rest of the evening. It was uncomfortably cramped with all six of them in the one space, but Harry and Cor were pretty much on top of each other, trying to take up the least amount of space between them.

Harry had pulled out his Solheim translations and both he and Cor were trying to figure out some of the more tricky terms and words. Regis was creating magical canisters for the rest of the Retinue, mixing the magic with some more volatile fiend components to bolster the power. Clarus, Cid, and Weskham were playing cards, Harry thought it might have been crib but he knew nothing about the game so couldn't say for certain. It was a quiet evening, nice. So nice in fact, he fell asleep long before everyone else.

He was still a little too shaky for anyone to be comfortable with the idea of him behind the wheel of a car, so once they got back to Verinas Mart, Cid stole the keys to the truck and nodded to Cor who wasted no time in bodily pulling Harry into his lap in the car. It was still way too hot but he didn't particularly want to move and was willing to put up with melting right now, neither of them were particularly keen on parting right now. The ruins had been too much of a close call for either of their tastes, and Harry knew, intellectually, that Cor was taking it harder than he was despite the fact he was the one who went in – Cor had wrapped his whole identity around protecting people. The fact that he couldn't even get _into_ the ruins to do so had shaken him. That Regis had followed Harry in.... there was a storm brewing in his boyfriend and he was waiting for privacy before unleashing it.

He would just have to do his best to distract him for as long as possible until his temper cooled.

“Oh? This looks interesting,” Weskham observed from the front seat.

Cor shifted against him, “Looks like they're preparing for the Assassin's Festival,” he said, voice rumbling pleasantly in his chest where Harry had curled up and rested his head so he could listen to his heartbeat. “Lestallum hold it every five years in honour of the Leviathan's Brotherhood who freed them from the hold of a tyrannical King. The Brotherhood used to call Steyliff Grove their homebase back when it was still a working temple to the Tidemother, or so the story goes. Since no one could maintain the temple, it being so far away and occupied by daemons, they started the festival instead. There's supposed to be lots of tests of course, skill, food stalls, everyone in costume, and of course everything is free,” he explained running his fingers through Harry's hair. “Security is going to be a nightmare with everyone in costume getting drunk and rowdy.”

“Oh live a little,” Clarus chuckled, “Half the country think we're already on our way to Accordo,” Harry felt an unpleasant sickly lurch in the pit of his stomach. He had forgotten that they were supposed to be going to the weird Venice place to fight a way. “And like you said, everyone will be in costume. Including us,” he added, leaning back in his seat to grin at them as Harry cracked his eyes open to frown at him. “You alright, sleeping beauty?” he asked.

Harry nodded, feeing Regis rub his leg as the car turned down the slope into the carpark, which let him get a bit of a look at some of the decorations lining the street, the beginnings of a large wooden scaffold, haycarts, someone in costume who was already showing off, people arguing about balloon placements. He waited until they'd parked before scooting out of Cor's lap, stretching hard enough for his vision to go dark and fuzzy, his ears to pop, and just about every other joint in his body to do so too.

He didn't even have the opportunity to flinch away in surprise before Cor had a kiss pressed to his temple and stepped past him to stretch as well. If he still hadn't felt so terrible from his three day stint of starvation and dehydration he would have been more appreciative of the view but as it was, the overflowing carpark, the laughing passers-by, the carnival-esque music and the smell of roasting meats and spices in the air were plenty distracting in of themselves.

“Where'r'y'all stayin' till y'get yer house?” Cid asked as he locked the Regalia behind them and, in a frankly inspired move, summoned a large cloth sunshield tarp to go over it. Harry saw the way everyone, especially Cor, grimaced to see the large caricatured sun with sunglasses and a cocktail declaring 'Cool Driving' on a hot pink and orange sunset. It was rather.... _eye searing_.

“In the caravan for now,” he admitted tiredly. He was looking forward to an actual shower and while the beds weren't amazing they were something softer than a sleeping mat and Cor's chest. “I almost have enough for the house. Just gotta add what me and Dave earned from this time out to the pot,” he explained with a jaw cracking yawn. “Ugh, why am I _still_ so sleepy?” he complained, rubbing his eyes and grunting a little when Cor wound an arm around him and tugged him in to kiss his head. And if they thought they were being discreet in exchanging those speaking glances over his head while he wrestled with himself, they were sadly mistaken. He was tired, not blind.

He foresaw a lot of well meaning attempts to slip him money in the future, and as much as he would like to stuff that money into the bottom of their boots, he wasn't really in a position to refuse. Kimya _needed_ somewhere safe to stay that wasn't that damn caravan, somewhere she could actually begin to properly recover in. If it were just for his benefit then yes he would refuse, but Kimya had been injured so in the course of her duties to the Lucian Crown, it was only right that they afforded her the same treatment and aftercare they did their other veterans – more so, a nasty voice in Harry's head growled, because if they had been on schedule, if they had been given access to the door without having to jump through the hoops, it would have never happened in the first place.

He shook the thought off, it was beneath him and not fair on the soldiers of Schier Heights in the slightest, they were doing their job and trying to keep themselves and each other safe in a time of war.

He slipped past the Retinue, heading up the slope to the caravan on the otherside of the petrol station, smiling tiredly to see Norman Mist and Dave sat outside with Kimya. She was carefully speaking to Norman who was nodding and encouraging her while Dave counted up the amount he'd earn from his last few hunts and putting it with their pot.

He turned to Cor, “Can I have my backpack, please?” he asked, the Insomnian wordlessly pulling it out of the Armiger for him, “Thanks,” he muttered digging into the front pocket where he kept his cards, including the one that Cid gave him. He set them on the table when he got to them, “More gil for the pot,” he announced cheerfully, making all three look up in surprise.

“Harry!” - “Ri!” came the shocked yelps.

Kimya was the fastest around the table, only stumbling a little bit as she ploughed into him in a tight hug, “Worried we were!” she exclaimed, her words only slurring a little. “Gone for too long you were!”

Harry was stunned, “You – you're speaking so well!” he exclaimed excitedly, “That's amazing!”

She beamed excitedly, more of her old self than ever before since Daurell Caverns shining through, “Help me greatly, has Norman. A challenge, the order of my words still is. The right places, I cannot get them. Strange they sound,” she sighed unhappily.

Norman chuckled patting her arm, “Not your fault,” he promised her in a light Tenebraean accent stiffer but more faded than Harry's own. “You're copying my words and its rewriting your original accent. That's my fault.”

He didn't care, he squeezed her tightly, “I'm so proud of you, you've come so far.”

She laughed, “Surprise you, I wanted to. To you, awful, I have been.”

“It was an awful situation. Don't apologise,” he muttered.

“Taller, you have gotten. Stop that you must. Than me, taller soon, you will be,” she complained, giving him a tight squeeze. “Annoying I sound,” she sighed unhappily.

“You sound like Yoda, it's awesome,” Harry told her reassuringly.

“WE HAVE ENOUGH!” Dave suddenly roared, making them all jump. He leapt to his feet, “I'm going to that shrivelled old bitch with it now before she pushes the price up again,” he declared, gathering up all the gil cards.

“I'll come wit'y'all,” Cid declared, “Make sure this house'a'yer's is fit fer purpose.”

“Known I should have, that find you again they would,” Kimya laughed, letting him go to hug Cor who stiffened a little but smiled slightly and hugged her back, muttering something too quietly for Harry to hear.

He turned to Norman, “I don't know how you did it, but thank you so much,” he said to the hunter who beamed a smile and shook his head.

“It's all her own hard work, I just knew how to direct her energy. My sister had similar trouble after a head injury. We figured things out between ourselves, she works at the plant now,” he explained as he began to gather everything up, “Lady Auburnbrie saved my ass a few times in the early days. And spending time with her isn't exactly a hardship,” he admitted, flushing a little pink as he smiled at the older woman as she fussed over Weskham who smiled and doted on her in return. Did – Norman have a _crush_ on _Kimya_?

Harry was stunned. He thought adults stopped _getting_ crushes when they were older. He shared a glance with Cor who seemed completely unsurprised and nonplussed, more confused at Harry's confusion than Norman's attraction to Kimya.

“You don't have to leave,” he blurted when he saw how he was getting ready to go, “Stay, if you want,” he said, glancing to Kimya who was now being fussed over by Clarus.

“I'll take you up on that another time, right now I have a few hunts of my own to do,” Norman explained with a small chuckle, “There's a few newbies who want to do a group hunt, I said I'd go with them once you and Dave were both back. Speaking of, you're quite late, are you alright?” he asked, looking him up and down.

“The hunts were fine but, ended up trapped in a Solheim ruin for three days just North-East of Verinas, on the otherside of the ridge. I would not recommend exploring, at all,” he added with a pained grimace. There had been an awful lot of scattered pieces of tat in there, Oracle Ascension Coins from across the ages, he'd picked up a small handful just because they seemed interesting. But his pockets only had to much space, and he focused primarily on getting out. In the dark he hadn't had much luck in reading the sell-by dates on some of the ancient drink bottles in there, so he hadn't risked them either. No matter how desperate he was. Diarrhoea would have killed him much faster than just not drinking the suspicious substance in the first place.

“I'll keep it in mind, and put the word out to avoid it,” the older hunter promised before handing over several papers, “Those are the practice lessons I've been going through with Lady Auburnbrie, it's a good idea to have her do them at least once a day to get her mouth, tongue, and vocal cords working, that way we won't stumble into words or sounds she can't make in the future. And that's a recipe for my sister's throat soother, it's great for colds and when you just need a bit of a pick me up too,” he explained with a bright smile as Harry shuffled through and found a list of orange juice, hot water, honey, lemon, and energy drink.

“Leaving so soon?” Weskham asked kindly as Norman finished gathering his things, “Wouldn't you like to stay for lunch at the least?”

Norman chuckled, “Kind of you to offer, sir, but I'm afraid I've got a hunt to get to and I've kept my team waiting a little too long I feel. They're probably halfway to Saxholm already, impatient brats,” he said with a sigh. He smiled at Harry, “I look forward to seeing the new place when you're all moved in and settled.”

“Definitely. Safe hunt, Norman,” he said with a grin as the man gave him a brief salute and headed off to the carpark where his bike was parked.

* * *

Both Cid and Dave came back madder than a Gaia toad on a hot griddle, the former had the air of sharp vicious satisfaction of getting one over on someone, Dave was tired and furious and _defensive_ though. Which put Harry's back up immediately and pull him away from the group as Cid proudly gave them a run down of how he found several issues that he could fix but managed to argue the price of the house down on. Dave however hugged him and apologised furiously, “She kept puttin' th'price up because'a you. Didn't want a refugee livin' in Lestallum. I should'a gone with y'all, shouldn't'a left all th'arrangements down t'jest you,” he said, squeezing Harry tightly even as it felt like his stomach turned to battery acid.

The whole reason it too so long and cost so much money was.... because _he_ was the one trying to arrange it? Because that woman _specifically_ didn't want him living there?

The demand to go and get their money back and fuck that spiteful old bitch and her house sat bitter and heavy on the tip of his tongue, pain and pride and fury a painful ache in his bones, but he swallowed it down. Pushed it down like all the harsh words from the Dursleys, the snide remarks of the Slytherins, of Snape, the Daily Prophet, and all the rest. The house wasn't for him, it was for Kimya. His pride did not trump her safety or her comfort. So he swallowed it down, pushed it aside, it didn't matter, it hurt but that was all. Pain was temporary, he could deal with it. He would deal with it. Later.

“We got the house, that's what matters. And now we have more money than we anticipated which means we can actually furnish it immediately and not live on bed-rolls and eat out of tins,” he said, purposefully looking on the bright side of the situation. If Dave and Cid going there and making the woman think that other people were purchasing and she dropped the price, then that just meant they would have a few thousand left over to get actual beds and chairs and crockery. “Did you get the keys?” he asked quietly since Dave didn't seem so inclined to let go of him, still furious and clingy. Whether it was to stop himself from going back and attacking her, or because he thought _Harry_ would, it was hard to tell. Or maybe he just felt bad for him and wanted to try and comfort him for something that was out of his control.

All of a sudden Harry felt.... tired.

Not sleepy but just _tired_. Bone deep and weary. Low and dark. Like he was breathing through water and the world was far away and cold again.

He patted Dave's back mechanically and it felt like his ears were full of static and his stomach was somewhere down by his knees.

“Let's... rejoin the others,” he managed to get out, feeling Dave nod and let him go.

They hadn't gone far but it felt like an eternity to walk, at least until Dave asked, “So... how're things goin' between you an'tha' Insomnian guy, do I need t'have a _word_ with him?” he asked drawing Harry's eyes up to him and the way he was glaring just a little at Cor who was being directed to stir something on the stove at Weskham's order.

“We're fine,” Harry told him firmly, “Talking to not necessary. We've figured ourselves out.”

Brown eyes flicked down to him, looking torn between sceptical and amused, “Y'all sure 'bout that? Y'fought like cats an' dogs last I saw.”

Harry shrugged, “A lot happened. I misunderstood a lot at first. He wasn't the asshole I thought he was, he just has the personality of a concussed housecat.”

Dave barked on a laugh so hard he ended up snorting and having to turn away as everyone looked up at them, Harry waved them off and waited for Dave to calm down. “Re-really?” he coughed, wheezing through tears of laughter.

Harry shrugged, smiling slightly as he glanced at the Insomnian as he rolled his eyes over something Clarus was saying, which only prompted Weskham to point his chopping knife at him and scold him until the Shield put both hands up and retreated to hide behind a giggling Regis. “Really. Took me a while to figure out he was just awkward but... he's been good to me. Better than most so, please don't,” he requested tiredly looking at him plaintively.

The Lucian nodded with a small slightly sad smile, “Y'got it, Catnip,” he promised, ruffling his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I poured enough fluff into this chapter to make up for, A/ the last chapter, and B/ the delay between the two XDD;;;
> 
> And to the anon who uwu'd me for making them want to reread Lion's Pride - I may tease, but I don't hold chapters hostage XDDD
> 
> _or do I...?_


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